James Marshal's page

• He believes deeply in the law.
  
• He'll drudge through a stream of bullets to meet his mark.
  
• Damn proud of his shotgun.
  
• Bit skittish around corpses, not undead, but corpses.
  
• Loyal to a fault.
  

Two Goals

• James would like to graduate into a Texas Ranger
  
• He'd like to settle a few inner demons.
  

SECRETS!

• James hid while his posse died(Explained in massacre story)
  
• He has a son.
  

Character Ties

• Elaine Marshal(wife/believed widow)
  
• Rodger Marshal(Brother and enemy)
  
• Cosgrove(Indebted gambler buddy)
  

Memories

• His moment of cowardice.
  
• His strange, if loving, family.
  
• The professor whom he admired so much.
  

FEAR

• Corpses: The sight of them makes him break out in a cold sweat.
  

The Massacre
It was the setting of the sun down in the crater, the horizon blocked off by wave after wave of various forms of undead. James and his small band were hiding off in an old saloon, taking cover behind old tables and the bar. Albert looked to the others with a face full of fear and said, "I don't think we're gonna make it out of this one, but hell if i'm not going to take a few of them with me," to several silent cheers and a waving arm. The door burst open as the first few of the horde poured in. Each being met with a series of bullets and shrapnel. This continued for roughly three minutes or so before a lull appeared in their descent upon the survivors. Three men lay dead near the door where they had swore to hold out and keep their fellows alive.

James' face bled with horror as he ducked behind the bar, slowly crawling into a trapdoor in the cellar and locking it behind him. The next moment offered a second of silence before the thundering of footsteps as scraping talons and dragging limbs drug across the floor with the wails of his abandoned compatriots filling his ears and drowning out the fire in his soul. seconds felt as minutes, and minutes turned to hours while James waited for the sounds to just stop.

Finally! The quiet descended upon the scared man like an anvil from the sky. He removed the latch from the cellar and pushed it open with some effort, as his comrade's bodies had partially piled on top of it. The sight that next filled James' eyes was of pure horror, mangled bodies, all with eyes and tongues torn out, filled the room. Half-stripped of flesh and almost seeming to scream in silence as James emerged, as if the pain they had felt had not left them as they died.